


Whole Again

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, end of life, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of a long, happy life together, Peter needs to help Stiles one more time.  He needs to help him die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole Again

Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again

(Lovesong by The Cure)

 

Peter isn’t sure if he’s allowed to stay with Stiles because of the ward he’s in or because it’s Angela, their alpha’s sister who’s in charge tonight. Maybe both, he doesn’t care.  All that he cares about is he’s allowed to stay at Stiles’ side.

Looking at Stiles in the bed, so frail and thin, hurts Peter’s heart in a way he didn’t know was possible. Worse than his family being killed so many years ago. Worse than when Stiles lost their baby and Deaton suggested they not try again.

At least they have their two boys, Stephen and Daniel, and grandchildren from each. And great grandchildren, all of whom have been to see the anchor for the whole family. Their pack’s emissary. The light of Peter’s life.

“What’cha thinking about wolfie,” Stiles asks quietly and wheezes. Now everything leaves him out of breath.

Peter leans over to adjust the cannulas in his nose and says, “What I’m having for dinner.”

Stiles smirks and nods, “Gonna go catch a bunny?”

“Maybe.” It would be good to run off some of his tension and worry, but he can’t leave his mate. If something were to happen while he was gone…

“Need to ask you for something,” Stiles says, squeezing Peter’s hand. “I need you to listen to me, Peter. You promised.”

“No,” Peter answers quickly, turning his head away. He’s not ready for this, he doesn’t want to listen. They said ‘when the time comes’ and ‘if it’s too bad’ and ‘only if necessary’ and none of those things are now. He won’t allow it.

“You promised me, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head and wishes he could stop thinking of that fucking song by The Cure from what, the 80s? He had decades before and they had decades since but that one song is stuck in his head. I will always love you.  Well, it’s appropriate, of course. They’ve been together since Stiles was in college and other than a night or two when one was traveling, they’ve always been together.

“You just need to do the pain drain thing and then a bit more. We discussed this, Peter,” Stiles squeezes his fingers and Peter can barely feel it, it’s so weak.

“You’re in pain?” he asks and tries to drain a little, but there’s nothing strong, just general overall exhaustion and the constant ache in Stiles’ lungs.

“Thanks, that helps while we talk. About you doing this because you promised.” Stiles pauses and takes a deeper breath, smiling slightly. “You did it for Boyd when he was in that car accident and couldn’t recover. You helped. It’s helping, Peter.”

“I did it for Erica,” Peter sniffs, smiling. “She’s the only one I ever liked you know. Other than you.”

Stiles chuckles and ends up with a small cough. “I know. She loves you, too. You’re so much alike, you’re both little shits.” He shifts and grimaces a tiny bit, shutting his eyes briefly.

Peter thinks he may have dozed off, he’s been doing that. Even a few minutes to talking exhausts him, and he falls asleep almost in the middle of a sentence. Pushing a bit of thin, gray hair off Stiles’ forehead wakes him with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Peter. You know I hate how your hair still looks so good,” Stiles mutters, shutting his eyes again.

“You look lovely, you always do,” Peter answers, reaching for the tube of gel to smear on Stiles’ chapped lips. Is there a blue tinge? It’s hard for him to judge anymore.

“Hmm, thank you. I think I’m dehydrating a bit more every day. Soon I’ll be like a leaf and – woosh – blow away.”

“No, not yet,” Peter says. “Not today.”

Stiles looks at him, smiling gently. “Yes, dear, I think it should be today.” He sighs and says, “I’m tired, Peter. I’m…I’m just so tired and I’m finished.”

“Our children, they’re not ready,” Peter replies, squeezing Stiles’ hand.

“They are. They’re adults, Peter, with their own grandchildren.” Stiles lifts their hands, fingers still locked together and kisses Peter’s hand. “We said our goodbyes yesterday.”

“I can call Renee, she can give you the bite -- you can’t still be stubborn about it.” Peter wipes his eyes, feeling desperate.

Stiles shakes his head, and takes a labored breath. “No, still no thank you. Renee knows it’s not what I want. Besides can you picture me as a wolf now? My first full moon, I’ll be all feral, sitting in my recliner, growling at my cup of tea.”

“You’d be a fine wolf. You always would have been a wonderful wolf, my love.”

“High praise coming from you,” Stiles breathes and rests for another minute, with Peter holding his hand. “Stephen and Beth will stay with you at the house tonight. Daniel knows all the arrangements I want, which is really simple, please. Just my ashes with the rest of the family and we picked out the stone already, so that’s set.”

Peter sits quietly, letting the tears run down his face. “I haven’t had enough time with you. Now I regret not seducing you when you were in high school,” he says, trying and failing for a grin.

“You were the devil then,” Stiles replies, pausing to cough. “But sexy though and I’m glad we waited. We’ve had, what? Sixty something years together?”

“Sixty seven next year. Like I said, not enough.”

Shutting his eyes, Stiles relaxes, holding Peter’s hand. It’s always relaxing to hold his mate’s hand, as they’ve done for so many years now. “I trust you’ll help me, Peter,” he whispers finally. “Lungs are giving out, breathing hurts. I don’t want to be put on a respirator, you know that. No machines. And I don’t really want to go the whole pneumonia route and feel like I’m being smothered.”

“I don’t want to see you suffer,” Peter replies. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed, moving tubes and wires, so they can be closer. The monitors are off and he wonders if that was planned, too.

“I know, and thank you. I hate thinking of you suffering as well.” He moves to rest his head on Peter’s leg, still strong in spite of his age, older than Stiles. Old for a werewolf, but he could easily live another twenty years. Another twenty if he has his pack around him and his mate.

“Shut your eyes, love, rest a bit. I won’t leave you tonight, I promise,” Peter says, resting his hand on Stiles’ throat. He lifts his hand, sniffing it for the concentrated scent of his partner. But it’s different now, he can smell the sickness and pain in his spouse. When Stiles is completely asleep, Peter puts his hand back on his chest and concentrates on taking his pain, waiting until the black is out of his arms and he stays there, panting as he continues and takes the rest.

When it’s done, when he can’t hear his mate’s heartbeat, he shuts his eyes, getting his breath back. There was more pain than he expected, but that’s like Stiles, not complaining, not asking for help until he was really hurting.

Peter texts his son, Stephen, the older of the twins by thirty minutes, and lets him know it’s done. His father is, hopefully, at peace.

Stephen knows Peter won’t want to talk now, so the texts back says he’ll let everyone know and be there in a few minutes. “And thank you, Dad,” Stephen texts.

The wolf sits a few more minutes until he hears Stephen and Beth talking quietly with Angela out in the hall. He kisses Stiles’ forehead once more, but it’s no longer his Stiles. He’s gone. And so Peter leaves the room to go home with his son  and wait until he can be with his mate again and be whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from and I don't want to read it again. Made myself cry.
> 
> I don't know what in particular Stiles is dying from, I think general old age.


End file.
